


To clean the mess we make of ourselves

by Thewonderfulthingaboutfish



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewonderfulthingaboutfish/pseuds/Thewonderfulthingaboutfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of mess-making and hair-dirtying, Enjolras and R come together for showers, shampoo, and dual commercials.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To clean the mess we make of ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [So Beautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702720) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> So this is a kinda-continuation of scarfytheshipster's "so beautiful" which you should totally read. The basic gist is that the two are hair models for L'Oreal and Garnier fructis. this is basically a literal stream of a visual commercial. I'm thinking LOADS of close ups.

A dark haired person is seen from behind at an easel. A close up of their paintbrush smearing blue paint on the canvas, a finger wiping off the excess. They paint some more, and then a close up of their paint covered hand running through their hair, staining the messy curls blue and yellow.

 

A hand scribbles across paper, using a dark green pen, palm smearing ink as they go. Fingers quickly rub at the stains trying to mop it up before it dries. A long strand of blonde hair is chewed between teeth, and the person twists a thick lock with inky fingers. They crumple up the paper, and start afresh on a new one.

 

The painter grips at their curls, their paintbrush burying itself in their hair, before the brush bounces off the floor, the palette following soon after. Coloured hands grasp for a spray paint can, and give the painting a black border, then a blue one, then a green one. They vary the distance between the cans and the canvas, causing the paint to rebound from the canvas, landing on their face and hair.

 

Pale hands, splotched with green and red ink, scratch an itch on the back of their neck, under the long blonde waves. They write some more on the pad of paper, then reach for another pen, crossing out past sentences, marking small comments above them. They sigh, running their hand through their hair.

 

An olive chin rests in large hands, paint sponges gripped between fingers, brushing their tips against a forehead and temple. Lips smile at the painting, and arms rise to lift the canvas off the easel, resting it against the wall. Hands grip paintbrushes, putting them in jars of water in the sink. Feet pad back over to the easel, folding it and laying it down, putting the stool over it. They go back to the sink, tucking a curl behind their ear, leaving purple paint on it. They take the brushes out of the water, wiping them off on a rag, swishing them under the tap and leaving them on a towel to dry.

 

The writer sighs again, gripping their hair before folding his arms over the desk, resting their head wearily on them, blond strands falling on the still wet ink. A hand lands on their shoulder, and they rise to join the painter, not bothering to tidy the desk. Hands fold together as they walk down the hallway.  
A paint stained shirt falls to the tiled floor, green plaid boxers next. The shower door opens, dark feet stepping in. A pair of jeans and a button down get discarded, their owner entering the shower after the other.

The shower rains down on blond and brunet heads, and the painter runs their hands under the water, scrubbing off most of the paint, and turns the other around, reaching for a bottle of L’Oreal damage repair shampoo, squirting a glob into a palm. They lathe up the other’s long hair, massaging their scalp with short olive fingers. The blond sighs in content, tipping their head back towards the painter. When the brunet is finished getting all the ink out of the writer’s hair, a pale hand grabs the Garnier fructis off the ledge, and started to run their fingers through the paint spotted curls, smoothing the tangles and rinsing away the colours from the chocolate strands.  
As they finished, the painter turns around, the writer’s hand still in his hair, and captures the other’s lips with his own. The camera pans out to show the two of them in full, and the Garnier Fructis and L’Oreal logos appear, with the text “For LGBTQ rights” below them.

 

On their couch in their flat, Enjolras and R were watching the first showing of the new commercial.

“I cannot believe they actually went through with it.”

“I can’t believe they used my real face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... this had waaayy to much imagery. It's hard to write a commerical transcript in prose! and I had to hide their faces and genders while doing so. argh. Do you know how many synonyms there AREN'T for some words? Don't ask me what R is painting or E is writing, I have no clue. Comments and criticism welcomed!


End file.
